


Shadow Bride

by StargateNerd



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, I really don't know what I was thinking, Jack's a bit of a tomboy, Pregnancy, Slow Burn, also the story is written in present tense, cause Pitch is a creepy creeper, cause it's weird like that :/, no Pitch that is not how you woo someone, not that jack's a very good judge of normal either
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StargateNerd/pseuds/StargateNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kozmotis Pitchiner was the Golden Army's greatest warrior, but he was also a father. While Pitch Black takes great advantage of the former fact, he is saddled with such dreadful <i>feelings</i> involving the latter. He's been able to suppress it for quite some time, since it would really be a Bad Idea for the Bogeyman to raise a child, much less father one, but it all changes when he meets a lonely winter spirit named Jack Frost. After all, who would make a better match for the Nightmare King than a Lady of Winter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/1511.html?thread=1388519) prompt on the kink meme. Just a warning, there will be some dub-con-ish situations (because Pitch is hopeless and such a creeper). Eventually. Somehow this thing grew a plot :/

It's not something that he ever really acknowledges. At least not at first. He doesn't remember much of his life before he became the Nightmare King, and usually he doesn't really care about the missing knowledge.  
  
But from time to time, as he looms over the bed of an unsuspecting child he feels an inexplicable urge to gently tuck back unruly locks of hair, or to sing a soothing lullaby, the words of which he does not know, but he remembers the tune well enough that sometimes he will catch himself humming it, and it fills him with a strange sense of... peace.  
  
Of course, none of this is very proper for someone who is the _Nightmare King_ , so he throws himself into his work, creating such dark and terrifying monstrosities that they cannot be adequately described by mortals. For a time (short by his standards, but for the humans it is centuries) he is powerful and sometimes even worshiped, and the moments where he succumbs to such weaknesses are few and far between.  
  
Then come the Guardians.  
  
Wonder, hope, dreams, and memories; each of them have their own special 'core' or whatever they like to call it, and together they protect the children of the world.  
  
It takes all Pitch has not to roll his eyes and reply quite rudely to Nicholas St. North when he offers him a spot in their little group. Fear is not something people, even immortals, welcome, and if his choice to not help coddle children into complacency makes him an outcast, then so be it. Even if the children's belief in the Bogeyman wanes, he will not fade completely so long as there is fear in the world. And there will always be fear.  
  
However, while such words _sound_ grand and unaffected, they cannot compare to the reality of slowly becoming a phantasm of the mind, something waved off by parents and children alike when the dark shadows of night creep in on them. The burden of the Nightmare King grows heavier on his shoulders, until his own thoughts become filled with shadow and monsters of the darkest kind.  
  
After some time though, he became a little less maudlin, a little more kind, a little less dark. The change began, he is certain, on that cold winter night on the plains.  
  
It was when he first saw her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering, fem!Jack in this fic looks a lot like regular Jack. Flying is a lot easier if you’re not wearing a skirt, and short hair is easier to take care of. Also, this first meeting between the two takes place sometime in 1787.
> 
> Anywho, here’s the next chapter wherein we are introduced to Jack, and Pitch bitches about the ~~Guardians~~ Goody Two Shoes Brigade.

He really quite likes the so-called ‘uncivilized’ places. ‘Uncivilized’ for mortals can usually be regularly interchanged with ‘the frightening unknown’. And Pitch takes great pride in making certain that continues. After all, what was life without challenges?  
  
He’s drawn to a small town that had recently been hit by a particularly vicious snowstorm. Nature had always been so kind to provide all sorts of sources for him in the wake of her wrath. And really, winter is the perfect time for him to thrive. Even if the humans are well stocked for the cold weather, there is always that little niggling doubt, that ‘what if?’  
  
Daylight is fading quickly, as is usual during the cold months. An undisturbed blanket of snow covers unsettled land as far as the eye can see, the vast whiteness becoming a canvas for the sunset. The town itself is bustling with adults going about doing whatever chores they can do before the long night can set in, and children are engaged in a rare chance to play outside. A group of them are having a snowball fight, their laughter ringing crisply through the air, and while Pitch would like to say that his attention was drawn to them by complete coincidence, it would not be the truth.  
  
Most of the children playing are bundled up against the cold, and the tallest of them can’t be more than ten years old, but darting in and out among the squealing brats is a white-haired, lightly dressed teen whose bare feet hardly stay on the ground as they flit around the children. The joyful grin on the teen’s face is abruptly wiped away when one of the children runs through them as if they aren’t there, and a part of Pitch shivers in sympathy, knowing all too well what it is like for your existence to be ignored.  
  
He is surprised to see the teen go back to playing with the children, although the spirit’s smile is now quite strained, and Pitch feels his temper flare suddenly, not to mention quite irrationally. He continues to watch from his darkened spot as the shadows grow even longer and the wind begins to bring the bitter night chill. The children part ways and retire to their homes, and the spirit is about to leave as well when Pitch’s curiosity gets the better of him.  
  
“Good evening,” he greets, stepping out into the light of the waning crescent moon. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around before.”  
  
The expression on the teen’s face is a mix of disbelief, fear, and excitement. “A-are you talking to me?”  
  
“Who else would I be talking to?” Pitch asks, an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Oh. I-it’s just, nobody’s ever talked to me before, and I’ve never really seen anyone like me around,” the girl (now that he’s closer he can tell) stutters, an undertone of relief and hope in her low voice. “Not since the Moon-” She stops and nervously taps her staff against the ground, gnawing on her lip a bit.  
  
“What has he done this time?” Pitch grumbles, aiming a glare at what little he can see of his old friend.  
  
“You know him?” The girl sounds surprised. “Does he talk to you?”  
  
He glares a little at her wistful tone. “I don’t know why you’d want him to talk to you, as he’s just a conniving old busybody.” His small outburst takes both of them by surprise, and he closes his eyes a moment to collect himself. “Let me start over. Hello, I’m Pitch Black, though I’m more commonly known as the Bogeyman.”  
  
“I’m Jack Frost,” the girl introduces herself, a wide grin on her face. She cocks her head slightly. “You don’t look that scary.”  
  
“And you don’t look much like a boy,” Pitch retorts dryly. “Or is ‘Jack’ short for something else?”  
  
“I dunno actually,” Jack shrugs, her gaze darting off to the side. “When I woke up… the Moon told me my name, but nothing else.” A wan grin crosses her face. “It was actually pretty fun until somebody walked through me.”  
  
Several choice profanities about certain lunar meddlers nearly make it past his lips. “You mean you have no memories prior to… waking up, was it?” At Jack’s replying nod, Pitch’s frown deepens. This was most unlike the Man in the Moon’s regular methods. To create a spirit and then just leave them with no guidance at all, just a name? No, it didn’t sound like him at all.  
  
“I take it he doesn’t talk to you either?” Jack’s soft question brings Pitch out of his thoughts.  
  
He gives a small snort. “Our previous conversations have been mostly one-sided anyway. If he talks to anyone anymore, it would most likely be those Guardians he’s appointed.”  
  
“Guardians?”  
  
“Yes. They ‘protect’ the children of the world,” Pitch mocks. “Mainly from me.”  
  
“From you?” Jack frowns, leaning forward on her staff.  
  
He can feel a spike of nervousness from her, and he can’t help the predatory grin that he gives, nor the subtle flaring of the nearby shadows. “Fear is not something very well-liked, never mind that it can sometimes be helpful.”  
  
Jack gives a small huff. “Probably doesn’t help if you intentionally do it.” She glares weakly at Pitch, causing him to chuckle.  
  
“Fair point,” he concedes. “My reputation helps keep the riff-raff away as well, though it does get tiresome getting blamed for every last thing.”  
  
“I know, right?” Jack nods. “I mean, sure I can make snow and ice, but it happens naturally too! Not my fault the kangaroo’s too damn stupid he can’t weatherproof his eggs.” Her bottom lip juts out in an overexaggerated pout, but Pitch can tell that she is genuinely annoyed. Then what she said sinks in.  
  
“I wasn’t aware there was a kangaroo spirit.”  
  
“He’s mistakenly called the Easter Bunny,” Jack informed him.  
  
Pitch stifles a smile. “He actually is a rabbit though.”  
  
“Are you serious?” Jack exclaims incredulously. “Have you seen the size of him? No rabbit is that tall.”  
  
Pitch just laughs. After so long without a proper civil conversation, Jack Frost, naive that she may be, is a most welcome change.

The next time Pitch sees Jack is on a chilly day in France, where she is bringing what she calls a "snow day". Pitch's reasons for being there are less altruistic, but he doesn't have time to say anything before Jack is bombarding him with questions about himself that she'd come up with since their previous meeting.

Though she is rather naive, the lack of suspicion and hostility is a nice change from his usual interaction with others of their kind, so when his jaunts take him places where he's more likely to see the energetic winter spirit... Well, it's not as if anyone keeps track of his movements anymore, thinking him to be a weakened shell of his former self.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late! I've actually had this written for a while, but I haven't gotten around to typing it till recently... Again, many apologies! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the first chapter from Jack's POV - she's fun to write, being the little shit she is :) Also Pitch is awkward and Jack is awkward and this really should all end in angst but probably won't. Probably ;)

"Hey, how come you're always playing with that stuff?" Pitch isn't startled by the sudden question, and Jack pouts. She's been trying to scare the Nightmare King, or at least surprise him, but she hasn't had much success. She's fairly certain he finds her attempts amusing, if only because she's heard stories, but he doesn't seem that bad.

"Just an experiment," Pitch replies from his spot on the roof where they are sitting. Well, Pitch is sitting; Jack is balancing on her staff.

"Experiment for what?" Jack asks, craning over to get a better look at what exactly Pitch is doing. "And won't Sandman be mad you took some of his sand?"

"He won't miss it," Pitch dismisses her concerns. "Sanderson is capable of multitasking, but there are millions of children in the world, and he can't account for every single grain of sand."

"It's pretty," Jack comments. She leaps down from her staff, hooking it across her shoulders as she leans over Pitch. "How come it doesn't make shapes when you touch it?" she wonders.

"Because that is not my intent," Pitch replies without looking at her. "And that only happens for Sanderson and chil-" He stops suddenly and stares at Jack with an inscrutable expression.

"What?" Jack asks somewhat defensively, her stomach churning. He is the Bogeyman after all, and who would want his gaze fixed on them indefinitely-

Jack hastily cuts off that train of thought because Bogeyman or not, Pitch is the only one who interacts with her halfway decently, and if it's a choice between being looked at in a way that makes her stomach feel a little funny or being alone again, she'll gladly take the staring. "What?" she asks, this time a little more impatient and rude.

"You worry about the strangest things," Pitch replies with a rather cryptic smile. He stifles a chuckle at the pout Jack gives him. "Here." Pitch holds out his handful of dream sand. "I'd like for you to touch it."

"Touch it?" Jack raises an eyebrow, and Pitch nods. With a wary look, Jack reaches out and pokes the sand. It briefly forms into a fish before it reverts back to its inanimate form.

"Interesting," Pitch murmurs, looking sideways at Jack with that look that makes her want to disappear or punch him.

"What's so interesting about it?"

"Well, for one thing the daft sand _likes_ you, and-"

"What, so you have to be crazy to like me?" Jack jokes. The knowing look on Pitch's face makes her forced grin falter.

"As I was saying, the sand seems to like you - but you've never interacted with Sanderson, correct?"

"Um, not really? I've said 'Hi' a couple times and he doesn't completely ignore me, but we're not best friends." Jack frowns. "But why's it weird the sand likes me?"

Pitch pokes and prods at the inert sand, and it might just be her imagination, but it seems as if the places where he touches the sand become darker momentarily. "You can see how it reacts to me - fitting since we're opposites. The sand let you shape it, and the only people who can do that are the Sandman..." Pitch looks up at Jack, a gleam in his eye. "...and children."

"Hey, I'm over a hundred!" Jack protests. "I'm not-"

"Mentally you are that old," Pitch interrupts. "But physically... Jack, the moon does not just make spirits and abandon them - much as I dislike him, he _is_ better than that."

"So it's just another way I'm messed up huh?" Jack feels so lost, filled with sadness and fear, fear that she'll never fit in, never know what she did to deserve this-

She's broken from her spiraling grief by the feel of a hand wrapped around hers. Jack looks up in surprise at Pitch, who then brings his other arm around and stiffly draws her to him.

Jack can't- she's cold and ice and freezes everything but somehow she's feeling _warm_ , and since when had she felt any kind of temperature change? They stay still a moment before it suddenly hits Jack that this is Pitch, this is the _Bogeyman_ and even if they are sort of friends, it doesn't mean that-

"I.. apologize... What I said obviously hit a nerve," Pitch says, interrupting Jack's inner panic.

"Hey, no, i-it's fine," Jack protests, wriggling out of the stilted hug. They're both still quite stiff, and it makes Jack laugh, that both of them are so awkward. "We- we're good," she says, her cheeks slightly frosted over in a blush. "So!" Her tone is bright and forced. "What, exactly, are we doing with the sand?"


	4. Chapter 4

Jack enjoys messing with people. Not quite to the extent that _some_ people would claim, but more than is the average, to be sure. Though she doesn't call what she's doing right now 'messing', really. After all, it's perfectly normal to keep tabs on the Groundhog; she doesn't want to be caught off guard in case six more weeks of winter are necessary! (Though that doesn't mean she can't have one last hurrah of a snowstorm if it _isn't_.) In any case, it's a good way of practicing her stealth; she _still_ hasn't managed to sneak up on Pitch and startle him.

The tree she's sitting in suddenly shakes, and Jack barely manages to keep from falling off.

"Hey!" she shouts. "What's the big idea?"

"I should be th' one askin' _you_ that!" a cross and grumpy voice replies.

"Oh, you," Jack grumbles at the sight of the Easter Rabbit standing at the bottom of the tree, his arms crossed. "What do you want _now_? Come to scold me for doing my job again?"

"If by 'doing your job' y'mean ruining people's holidays, then yes."

"Oh, c'mon - news flash kangaroo, but I'm not the one in charge! You do know who Mother Nature is, right?"

The rabbit scowls. "Stop callin' me that, y'little ass. An' so much snow is _not_ needed that late in the year!"

"Ooh, the mighty kangaroo knows all," Jack mocks. She hangs from the branch by her knees and smirks. "Lemme guess, next you'll be doing my job."

"Like I expected any different from someone who's friends with the Bogeyman," the rabbit sneers. "You best stay away from th' Groundhog, y'got it? Whatever scheme you two've cooked up, you leave him alone.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Jack demands.

"Y'leave him alone, an' stop following him!"

"Okay, I take offense to that!" Jack floats down to just above the ground, making her eye level with the rabbit. "You know the whole thing about the groundhog seeing his shadow? Well, I'm the one who's gotta bring six weeks of winter just in case! Course, I couldn't expect a kangaroo to know that; not like Australia gets much snow."

"Right, so you an' Pitch _aren't_ all buddy buddy an' plotting stuff," the rabbit scoffed.

"I really don't get what everyone has against him," Jack says as she hooks her staff over her shoulders. "I mean, I get that he's the Bogeyman, bringer of fear and all that, but that's his _job_ ; not like he can really help it." She scowls at the disbelieving look she's given.

"You should stay away from him, kid. While you still got your health and sanity intact."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean??" Jack splutters. "Seriously, all I hear about him is doom and gloom, but he's not that bad a guy! Sure he's a bit of a jerk, but if that's all, you're worse than him in that department!"

"You've seriously got no idea?"

Jack's frown deepens. "It would help if you'd be a bit less cryptic, kangaroo."

"It's Bunnymund. If you're going to insult me, you should at least know my name."

"The Easter Rabbit is named Bunnymund," Jack deadpans. "What a shocker. Mind if I call you Bunny?"

" _Look_ ," Bunnymund growls exasperatedly. "If y'really don't know about Pitch, he's done some terrible things. You shouldn't be mixed up with him."

"Funny, considering he's the only one who's ever treated me halfway decent," Jack retorts with a glare.

"He's just playin' you," Bunnymund insists. "He doesn't have an ounce of compassion in whatever's left of his heart, and that mess he calls a brain is-" He yelps as a bolt of ice nearly hits him.

"Thanks for the advice, _kangaroo_ ," Jack spits, "but I think I can choose my friends well enough based on their actions and not hearsay." With one last glare directed at the rabbit, she flies off, too annoyed to stake out the Groundhog any longer.

"Wait!" Bunnymund shouts after the winter spirit, who is either too far away, or ignoring him. "Dammit," he curses. "Stupid l'il galah; gonna get 'imself killed or worse!" Bad enough that Pitch is out and about, not his usual skulking, but he'd somehow swayed a winter spirit to his side... "Dammit."

He's just glad he'd decided to visit the Groundhog, or they could've been ignorant of this until it was far too late. Bunnymund's frown deepens as he considers what to do next. It's been so long since Pitch has been active, it seems only logical for the bastard to be gathering his strength for his next grab at power. But will the other Guardians listen to his warning? Tooth and Sandy are so busy, and North hardly ever takes anyone, let alone Bunny's thoughts seriously...

His planned visit to the Groundhog forgotten for now, he absentmindedly opens a tunnel below himself. The forest is quiet, the only signs remaining of the spirits' interaction being a haphazard dash of frost on the otherwise barren ground, and a small blue flower where Bunnymund's tunnel had been just a moment ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Jack and Bunny don't get along very well, mainly cause they're opposites in quite a few ways. Also, I am not in any way excusing any of Pitch's behavior. JUST A REMINDER CAUSE FROM HERE ON OUT THINGS ARE GOING TO BE VERY CREEPMANTIC (CREEPY/ROMANTIC) DEPENDING ON HOW YOU VIEW THINGS. THE DUB-CON TAG IS THERE FOR VALID REASONS. It's not going to be Twilight creepmantic, but it'll be up there.


	5. Chapter 5

"Pitch."

The Nightmare King raises his head from where he is focused on a particularly stubborn nightmare that just won't give the right sort of fear. He twists his fingers and the shadowy blob goes round his arm before coiling into his robes.

"Pitch!"

"Yes?" he drawls as Jack enters the room, her head a bright spot in the otherwise darkness of his home. But her expression... "Is something wrong?" Pitch asks.

"You wouldn't tear my heart out and feed it to your shadows, would you?"

"...Have you been bothering Hallows again?" Pitch asks with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Jack huffs. "Besides, I haven't even seen him in months."

"Then why the sudden interest in dismemberment?"

"That isn't an answer to my question." Jack's mouth is set in a pensive line, but her eyes...

Oh, Pitch can feel her fear; of his answer, of possibly losing his friendship, of the kangaroo being right... He bites back the rush of anger at finding the thrice-damned Pooka is what has Jack in this state. Pitch rises, and his anger increases at the flinch that garners from Jack.

"We're alike, you and I," he muses. "We're kindred spirits Jack, and I value your companionship far too much to ever harm you, much less in such a barbarous manner."

"You mean it?" Jack asks softly, taking a tentative step towards the older spirit.

"I'm sure you've heard all manner of tales about me, and they are true." He pauses and flashes a small but sincere smile at Jack. "I can be cruel, vicious, and I have more than earned the title Nightmare King. But only," he emphasis, "to those deserving or needing it. And you, Jack..." Pitch steps into Jack's personal space and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You are in no way deserving my ire."

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on her forehead. "You are in no need of nightmares to warn you of danger, or phantoms to prevent you from doing something stupid." Jack's face is flushed lavender and she looks fit to burst - with either embarrassment or enjoyment, Pitch is not quite sure. Later, he'll blame the fact that Jack _does_ look quite adorable. "Would you like to help me?"

Jack shoots him a quizzical look, which looks odd coupled with her flushed cheeks. "Help with what?"

He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her down to sit next to him. "The fear in this one," he says as he draws out the nightmare he was working on, "is not quite what I'd like it to be."

"W-who is it for?" Jack stutters, her face a darker shade.

"No one in particular, but I was thinking of disobedient and unruly children who have no respect for authority."

Jack glowers. "Is that supposed to be a warning?"

"Hmm?" Pitch frowns. He chuckles at the disgruntled look on her face. "Oh, no, Jack. Actually, I was thinking more in response to this recent spate of ill-mannered adolescents."

The winter spirit shrugs. "Kids misbehave, it's how they learn. And sometimes it's good not to listen to adults; they don't always know what's best."

Pitch 'hmm's. "Personal experience?" he inquires in a neutral tone.

Jack scoffs and scratches at the ground with the butt of her staff. "More like my entire existence that I've actually interacted with... people." She gives him a shy little grin. "'cept you. It's funny, cause everyone says you're mean and evil, but you're not. Well," she adds as an afterthought, "you can be mean sometimes. But not like the stories say."

"You've given me no reason to act so," Pitch repeats his earlier words. He allows the nightmare a tad more freedom, and its shape becomes a bit more defined as eerie yellow eyes blink first at Pitch, then Jack. It drifts towards her, but he doesn't allow it to go more than a couple inches.

Jack hesitantly raises her free hand, but does not touch the shadowy form. "It's cold," she notes, somewhat surprised. "Why can I feel that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Pitch asks, his curiosity piqued.

"Cause I'm a _winter_ spirit," Jack says, rolling her eyes. "I don't feel the cold, and it doesn't affect me."

"Really?" Pitch lets the nightmare move, and it wriggles a little before coiling around Jack's hand, though not quite touching her icy pale skin. "How interesting."

"Why is it so..." Jack fumbles for a moment, "...friendly? Did you figure out how to put some of Sandman's sand in there?" She brings her staff up, the crook of it level with the nightmare. The shadowy mass suddenly surges around it, a shock of ice threads through it, and the nightmare falls to the ground frozen.

"Well," Pitch says after a shocked silence, "that was odd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** In case it wasn't obvious, "Hallows" refers to the Spirit of Halloween (but not Samhain), Lantarn Hallows. Yes, I know I've already got a Halloween Spirit OC, but this one is different.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and remember, reviews/constructive criticism are very much welcome ;3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize so very much for the long wait, but here is the next chapter!

"I'm sorry!" Jack blurts. She draws her staff back, away from Pitch, and seems to shrink in on herself. "I'm so, so sorry," Jack rambles, her eyes wide and her expression pinched.

Pitch doesn't respond, and he bends down to retrieve his frozen shadow. He frowns at the way the inky matter falls apart under his touch in a fine, crystalline substance.

"Is... is it... dead?" Jack frets, her fear spiraling into ice cold terror that does not sit well on Pitch's tongue.

"It wasn't really alive in the first place," Pitch comments, scrutinizing the remains carefully. "Not in the way that some of my creations are at their later stages."

"I'm sorry," Jack repeats miserably. "I didn't know that would happen."

"It's not your fault." Pitch fixes his eyes, gold flecked with silver, on her. "It was an accident; there's no use blaming yourself."

"But my staff, it-"

"Seems to be a bit more than merely a conduit for your power," Pitch says, his gaze falling to her staff. The winter spirit's grip on her weapon tightens, her knuckles whitening to near transparency. He stands up.

"Jack, I'm not angry. Somewhat annoyed, yes, but not angry."

Jack shakes her head, her bangs falling over her eyes, and Pitch can tell she's trying not to cry. "Everything I do, I always mess it up, and it's not like I don't try, but it's like nothing I do is good enough and I just-" She's shaking, minute tremors wracking her body, and the temperature is decreasing sharply. "Maybe it would've been better if the Moon had just left me in the pond to begin with."

"Left you _where_?" Pitch asks incredulously. "I thought you merely woke up."

"I did," Jack says wearily. "It was cold, and dark, and I was scared. Then the ice broke as I came out of the pond and the Moon was so bright and comforting." She laughs bitterly. "Then he told me my name. After that I found my staff and-" A small smile stretches her lips. "It was so exhilarating, running around the pond, and _flying_ -"

Her smile disappears. "And then the first person I talked to walked right through me."

It takes all the self control Pitch has not to start growling and never stop. The lunar ruler had, for all intents and purposes, only given Jack life and spoken to her once before throwing her in the deep end to sink or swim with no guidance whatsoever. And given the fact she had no memories and had risen out of an iced over pond, Pitch was going to keep that metaphor to himself for the time being.

"None of that is your fault," he says, and really, how funny it is that he, the Bogeyman, is trying to comfort someone who's scared. _But it's not just 'someone', it's Jack_ , he thinks, and since when had she gotten this far under his skin? He sits down next to her again, ignoring the near-Arctic temperature and the thick layer of frost that has spread out from Jack.

"You don't know that," she says in a small voice, and it sounds so wrong; the Jack he knows is brash and exuberant and never afraid. The thought makes him chuckle, and the look Jack gives him would be scathing in any other situation.

"Everyone warns you of me, and yet the first time you are afraid, it is because you do not want to lose what we have," Pitch says aloud, his smile almost fond.

Jack ducks her head, cheeks a faint purple while the tips of her ears have frosted over. "I... s'pose that's kinda weird, huh?" she mumbles, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

"Quite," Pitch says, and Jack smiles and elbows him, but not unkindly.

The room has warmed up somewhat, and from the corner of his eye Pitch can see the frost covering the floor has lessened. He brings up one hand and ruffles her hair a bit, and the grin she shoots him isn't very large, but assures him more than anything else that he's done the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, con crit and feedback are quite appreciated ;3 Also, as I've been plotting this out in my head it's actually not that dub-con-ish (well except for the whole pregnancy thing) and Pitch is actually pretty good w/boundaries and shit and I'm not sure if that's just cause I've read so many rapey BlackIce fics or if it's because I'm trying to make amends for the Koga/Blue ~~cause holyshit KOGA NO BAD~~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahha i am so sorry for the wait; please enjoy fluffy bonding time accompanied by death and destruction x3;;;

Jack sighs as the sounds of battle continue, only slightly muffled by the falling snow."You'd think they'd learn," she mutters, twirling her staff while she lies in the crook the branches of a tree provides her. She isn't sure why exactly the humans are fighting, but the Russian winter is unforgiving, and even if she isn't putting her all into this storm, soon enough the French will either pull back or die. She grimaces at the screams that follow the cannons. It's really a toss up as to whether exposure or enemy fire kills them.

"Ghastly, isn't it?"

Jack looks down and grins at the sight of the tall, foreboding figure below her. "Pitch!" she greets him happily. "Whatcha doing?"

"Enjoying the meals your handiwork is providing me for the time being," Pitch replies dryly with a tinge of macabre humor.

Jack scowls, ignoring the way something inside her flutters at the thought of  _feeding_  Pitch. "It's not  _all_  mine. If they'd just wise up and leave they wouldn't be dying so fast."

"Mortals are nothing if not stubborn," Pitch comments. He inhales deeply, and his nose crinkles ever so slightly. "Though the same kind of fear  _does_  get dull after a while."

"I bet," Jack drawls, and Pitch rolls his eyes.

"Your sarcasm is unneeded."

"But it sure adds to a conversation!" she adds cheekily.

"Regardless, if the storm worsens, I'm sure they'd retreat that much quicker."

"That's what I thought when I first started," Jack huffs. "But their commander is an idiot or crazy; he keeps 'em going no matter the weather." She scowls, wishing she could give the man in charge a piece of her mind, or maybe acute frostbite. "Adults are so stupid," she mutters. "I like kids way better."

"I suppose they have their own charm," Pitch concedes.

Jack jumps a little, having been caught up in her thoughts and not noticing that her companion moved from the ground to the branch next to her. "They're a lot more fun at any rate," she says, shifting so Pitch has room to sit beside her.

"Oh yes, smelly, squalling, selfish little brats sound like so much fun," Pitch needles, still standing.

Jack frowns. "They're not that bad," she defends. "And I think you're thinking about babies."

"Mortals in general," Pitch insists as he lowers himself to sit next to her. "Hypocritical and a waste of space; I don't know why the Guardians or anyone else bothers."

"I think," Jack starts before she cuts herself off, tapping her staff pensively against the tree trunk.

"You think...?" Pitch prompts.

"Well, adults can be pretty bad, right?" Jack says slowly. "But kids aren't, and sometimes they're even all right after they grow up. So, the Guardians, and others, they try to keep the kids from going too bad, y'know? So, it's like we try to make them happy so they have something to hold onto later." She ducks her head because even in her peripheral vision she can feel Pitch's stare practically burning a hole in her, and it's far too intense. "Happy memories... they can do a lot of good," she finishes wistfully.

"You give them far too much credit," Pitch says, his brow furrowing. "Though I must admit, that is an interesting way to look at it."

"Do you have any?" Jack asks curiously. "Memories, I mean, from before you were Pitch Black. Did the Moon make you too?"

"...it's not something I like to talk about," the elder spirit admits after a silence so long Jack feared she had offended him. "What I can remember... it isn't pleasant, and even if it wasn't exactly  _me_ , I don't enjoy knowing how much damage was caused." He looks up in the general direction of the sky, for the swirling snow makes it impossible to see much farther beyond them. "There is no love lost between us, in any case."

Jack isn't sure how to respond to that, so she just takes Pitch's right hand in her left and squeezes it. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been responsible for more than a few icy graves," Jack says with a nervous smile.

Pitch huffs a little, and leans in against the winter spirit's shoulder. "Gallows humor doesn't suit you; I think I liked the sarcasm better."

"Persnickety, aren't you?" Jack teases.

"I didn't know you had such a large vocabulary," Pitch says with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

"Just cause I'm not older than dirt doesn't mean I don't know things," Jack replies haughtily. She maintains the superior look for a moment before dissolving into giggles.

Pitch gasps with faux indignation. "Making fun of the elderly? Jack, I'm shocked!"

The winter spirit just continues to laugh, mainly because Pitch actually cracked a joke, and one that didn't involve death or other bodily harm. Right now, not even the muffled cannon fire and agonized screams can dampen her mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "did the moon make you too?"
> 
> jack  
> honey
> 
> pitch murdered the moon's parents and slaughtered most of the people in his empire
> 
> "it's not something i like to talk about" is such an UNDERSTATEMENT you have no idea


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence, blood, and panic attacks this chapter. Also some nudity. Just a heads up!

Pitch is  _not_  brooding when he feels the rush of icy wind through the tunnels of his home.

A smile crosses his face; it's been some time since he has seen Jack, and even longer since she has visited him here. Perhaps this time he can convince her to stay a while longer than usual.

"Jack," he calls out in greeting, and stops when he feels the unpleasant taste of her fear just before she enters the room, her face bruised, a serious gash across her chest, and her clothes in an even worse state than usual.

"Hi," the winter spirit says softly, and is that bruising on her  _neck_  he sees? "Could I stay here for a bit?"

"Who did this to you?" Pitch demands, his voice just above a growl as the shadows of the room writhe in response to their master's emotions.

"I just got into a little fight," Jack insists, and it is only because Pitch is so used to listening for small sounds that he is able to hear her now, so faint is her voice.

" _Jack_ ," he hisses. "Who did this?"

"No one important," she says, and Pitch is so  _infuriated_ , because anyone who would dare to even look the wrong way at her let alone cause injuries of this kind is very important indeed, but her expression stops him short.

"We should get you cleaned up," he says instead, and the relieved look Jack gives him for dropping the subject makes him grit his teeth. He extends his hand and she takes it.

The coolness he has come to associate with her proximity is barely there. In fact her hand is clammy, alike to human sweat, and his concern spikes, because as Jack is so fond of reminding him, she is a  _winter_  spirit, and it cannot be good for her to be this warm.

They twist through shadows to an underground pool, and Pitch catches Jack as she stumbles. "It isn't too deep," he says, indicating the pool, and Jack smiles.

"Thanks," she whispers, steps towards the water, and before Pitch can do anything, strips off her tattered top, finally answering the question Pitch had had long ago as to whether she had anything on underneath, and the answer is a resounding, "NO, no she is  _not_."

Jack turns back at Pitch's sudden noise that was not spluttering, not at all, a curious look on her face, and now he can fully see the wound that goes across her chest, staring just below her left collarbone, cutting down and across the top of her right breast. IF she were human it would most likely have been fatal, and the dark blue dripping from the gash that is beginning to cake must be blood,  _Jack's blood_ , how dare someone lay hands on her-

The acrid taste he has come to associate with Jack's fear is like a slap to the face and he is pulled back from his fury to Jack standing very still, hands clenched in the rags that remain of her shirt, her blue eyes wide and fearful. He imagines her heart would be beating furiously if she had a pulse.

"I'm sorry," he says, not just for scaring her with his anger, but for her loneliness, for the Moon all but abandoning her, and because someone as kind as her deserves better company than a monstrous relic who cannot go long without behaving rudely. "I'm sorry," he repeats, and melts into shadow, leaving her to wash in peace.

* * *

Jack hadn't meant to intrude on Pitch, but there hadn't really been anywhere else she could think of to hide out for a bit just in case that fucking fae got it in its head to follow her.

It wasn't like it was her fault anyways! She'd apologized for invading the fae's woods, been the epitome of politeness, grovelled quite a bit because you didn't piss off the Fae, it was a Bad Idea, even a nobody like her knew that, but it just  _grinned_  and said, "I've always wondered if winter spirits bleed, or if inside you are just ice," before the trees came alive.

She couldn't remember much after that beyond a lot of pain, but when she came back to herself she was nearly to Pitch's home and saw no reason to change course. Thought now Jack wonders if maybe she should've just gone somewhere totally deserted, like the land of the cold to the South. Seeing Pitch that angry was frightening, even on her behalf -  _especially_  on her behalf.

She lays down her staff, then steps into the pool. The water is cool, almost refreshingly so, and that combined with the fact that there is only a little bit of frost spreading across the surface from where the water meets her sin is worrying. She gives a small sigh as she sinks into the water, reclining at an angle so she can rest her head against the lip of the pool. She starts to rub at the area around her wound, grimacing at the feel of blood,  _her_  blood for all its strange color. It's almost mesmerizing the way the dried flakes blossom into snow crystals as they hit the water.

"Huh," she says, and winces at the strain it takes to speak above a quiet whisper.  _Not trying that again_ , she thinks.

After she finally scrubs away the dried blood, she prods a little at the wound. Quite a bit of it is raw and sensitive to the touch, but there is a bit which is already iced over. Jack is torn between the fascination at her first scab, possibly scar, and revulsion over the fact she has one in the first place.

Her hand goes to her neck and she softly moves her fingers over the bruising she can feel has developed. She looks down at the water, and even this close she can see her face reflected back at her, dark blue and purple mottled high across one cheek.  _At least my bruises are a normal color_ , she thinks morbidly.

Frustrated and a plethora of other emotions she doesn't dare dissect at the moment, she sinks in to her neck and then goes to dunk her entire self underwater.

_It's dark. It's dark and cold and she cannot **breathe**  oh God she going to die, the ice is closing over, she cannot surface, cannot help if Emma goes under, no, please, I don't want her to die,  **I don't want to die**_

Jack surfaces with a pained gasp, trembling but not from the cold water (because she's a  _winter_  spirit why would the cold ever affect her?) and even dripping wet she can tell she's crying, except everything is freezing over,  _she_  is frozen just like before, and her breath is coming quick, so quickly until she cannot breathe but she doesn't  _need_  to breathe, doesn't  _need_  to eat, probably doesn't need to sleep but it gets so lonely, had been much worse until she met Pitch-

Large hands and large fingers close around her arms and she shrieks, which hurts her throat even more, and lashes out, everything within two inches layered in frost and ice but then she's being lifted from the pool, and oh it  _is_  Pitch and then there is a shadow and a blanket and oh.

He's warm.

How a being of shadow and fear and darkness can be warm escapes her but also makes sense, because she is so cold and in comparison everyone else must be  _burning._

As the haze thins and she can finally hear beyond her head pounding, she hears him saying her name.

"Jack, it's all right, nothing can hurt you here, just breathe. It's all right Jack, it's all right-"

She cuts him off. "I died."

She can feel him go stiff but keeps going. "The pond, it- I  _died_ , Pitch, it was so cold and dark and I couldn't breathe and now I don't need to I don't need to  _breathe_ , God, I'm  _dead_ , Pitch,  _I'm dead._ " She's crying again, her throat hurts from talking too much, too loud, and Pitch is silent, not saying anything, just holding her, and Jack doesn't know whether that,  _this_ , is good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry this chapter is so late ^^; Life lately has been busy and I had about half this written when I got a review reminding me "hey, go do the thing!" So yeah, hope you all enjoyed, and remember to leave a review telling me what you did/didn't like, what really made you cry, etc! ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

They sit like that for a long while, Jack shivering and Pitch clutching her close, a silent reassurance that he is here and won't let anything else happen to her. He also says this aloud, if not exactly verbatim.

Some time after she has gone silent, just sitting with Pitch and laying her head against his chest, she says, in a tiny whisper so as not to aggravate her throat, "I had a sister."

Pitch "hmm?"s in interest.

"Her name is - was - Emma," Jack continues, enjoying the way breath rattles in Pitch's chest against her ear. "It snowed for a couple days and the pond was finally frozen so we convinced Mother to let us go play." A bittersweet smile plays across her face. "Mother did some work as seamstress and I took odd jobs around town but it was still barely enough to get shoes, let alone ice skates. My feet were tougher than Em's though, so I went barefoot."

"I wasn't aware teenage girls doing that sort of thing was accepted at that time," Pitch says, quiet in the entirety of the cave but almost deafening with how close he is to Jack, and she fights off a shiver that has nothing to do with cold or lingering shocks.

"Father died four summers before and Mother didn't want to remarry," she tells Pitch, nostalgia in her voice. "The guy trying to court her was a real creep, so I'm glad she didn't do it in the end. We moved, went with a wagon train headed north and settled in the woods near Burgess. Mother knew we'd have all kinds of well meaning folks bothering us, so we cut my hair and started calling me "Jack"."

"So what was your name before?" Pitch asks, curious.

Jack laughs. "Jacqueline. So it was really just a nickname, and if Em or Mother called me "Jackie" from time to time it wouldn't seem too strange. It cut down on the amount of people who would've tried to court her or me, so it worked pretty well." Pitch's arms hold her a little tighter and she relaxes into him further.

"Would you rather be called that from now on?" he asks and Jack's thrown for a moment before she shakes her head.

"Nah," she rasps, her cheeks frosting. "You've been calling me Jack fro how many years now?"

"It was 1787 when we met," Pitch says softly, a note of fondness in his voice.

"What year is it now?" she asks.

"Not entirely sure, but the French tried to invade Russia in 1812."

"So at least twenty years," Jack deduces. "I've been Jack frost longer than I was ever Jacqueline Overland. It suits me better anyways." She turns in Pitch's arms and looks up at him. "But thank you for asking."

"Of course," he replies, silvery gold eyes locked on her. "You're my friend, your well being is important to me."

Jack's cheeks light up in purple and dark blue frost and she burrows back down into Pitch's chest. "Thanks," she mumbles, fairly sure he can hear her no matter how quiet she is. The entire day has been exhausting, one adrenaline rush after another, and Jack can feel it finally catching up to her. "Do you mind if I sleep?" she asks, eyes already drooping, and feels Pitch go stiff. "You won't give me nightmares," she assures him. "I trust you."

With that matter settled she lets herself drift off into warm blackness, feeling quite comfortable in Pitch's arms.

* * *

It doesn't take long until Jack's emotions fade to the dull static of those fast asleep. Pitch is still frazzled by this entire day and is finding it hard to keep his own feelings in rein, because normally frightening Jack is barely acceptable, but right now it's  _absolutely_  prohibited.

She's light in his arms, almost drowning in the shadowy blanket he'd gathered her into when he'd found her in the water, frost layering over the water as she shrieked despite the condition of her throat. His own heart had nearly stopped at the reek of fear and despair coming from her, because Jack should not feel that way-!

Pitch breathes deeply through his nose. It's no good getting upset right now when all it will do is possibly agitate Jack further. She's only just fallen asleep and she  _trusts_  him not to-

There's something warm in his chest and he's not sure what it is, since Jack isn't as cold as she normally is but even with only his robe and the one layer of the blanket she is still chilled. Pitch can feel his cheeks heating at the reminder that Jack is indeed still naked - and really does she have  _no_  modesty? - and he should see about getting her some clothes.

It takes a little maneuvering with the support of a couple of shadows for him to stand with Jack cradled in his arms. There is a moment where he's afraid she may wake when he goes from cross legged with her in his lap to lifting her as he stands, but the events of the day have been tiring and she stays asleep.

Pitch lets go a near silent sigh of relief and looks down at her. In his arms she's so small and vulnerable looking. Granted, she is roughly a foot shorter than him, but there is something about her face, slack in slumber, that makes the warm feeling in his chest twist and tighten. Her being in his arms feels... right somehow, like bantering on rooftops or battlefields does, or the way she handled his experimental sand, curious and interested, and how beautifully their powers meshed.

His gaze fixes on the bruising that is very noticeable on her pale throat and on her face and this time he lets his anger fill the shadows.

"Go," he orders quietly, voice intense. "Find whoever did this." The living shadows obey and heed their master's words, following the distinctive trail of Jack's emotions to trace her steps before she came to Pitch. Another shadow cloaks Pitch, ferrying him and his armful to another part of the network of caves that make up his lair.

While Pitch has never had much use for a bed, or for sleep at all beyond his work, he has had guests in the past, human and otherwise, who require a soft surface for sleep. The fact that human tales of the Bogeyman have recently begun to feature him as something that dwells beneath beds has no bearing at all here.

Pitch gently lays Jack down on the bed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and covering her further with an actual blanket. It's a thin thing meant for hot summer nights and he does not want Jack to overheat. He spends a few more moments watching her sleep, the dull static of emotions of her sleeping mind the only indication she is not dead since, as Jack said earlier, she does not need to breathe.

His fists clench. He has half a mind to go and start shouting at the Moon again, but there's no guarantee he would even get an answer, mysterious as the lunar busybody is. No matter; his main concern is Jack, and keeping her safe and making certain no one harms her. He can yell at conniving rulers much later, when Jack's well enough to yell with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait everyone! Work and jewelry and my other stories have kept me busy ^^;; In an effort to keep from having update gaps too large, I'm going to try to complete one chapter for a (large) story each week - right now I'm trying to finish AWW and Schismatic, my HP/APH crossover and attempt at non-cracky DCMK respectively, and I've recently updated AWW, so I'm going to try to finish the chapter for Schismatic this upcoming week, and then AWW or Shadow Bride the next week and the other the following week. So hopefully, there should only be a three week gap between updates instead of months ^^;;;
> 
> Do you know how much information there is about winters, etc. in North America during the 1600-1800s? NOT MUCH or at least not as much as I was hoping. Incidentally, during the medieval period until about mid-1800s/early 1900s was something called "the Little Ice Age" by early scientists it's really interesting and possibly subplot related (I haven't decided yet). And you may have noted that the timeline changed and that is bc when I first started writing this I had completely forgotten when Napoleon tried to invade Russia, I was under the impression it happened much later during the 1800s I'm not sure why but I'm going to blame Hetalia even tho it probably it actually isn't involved.
> 
> also during the last bit of Pitch seething at the moon I was getting distinct Cecil fuming about Steve Carlsberg vibes (bc pitch totally had a phase where he'd go and yell at the moon about everything (there was a lot of swearing and throwing things involved)).


	10. Chapter 10

It takes almost three days before Pitch's shadows bring him news that they've backtracked Jack's trail to a forest in Central Europe where one section has "mysteriously" been frozen over. The locals are quite fearful of it actually, giving Pitch an ulterior motive for his trip.

After Jack had fallen asleep she'd stayed that way for nearly an entire day before waking for a whort while. She spent most of her time sleeping which, no matter how frustrating to Pitch, made some sense. After all, it took a while for ice to freeze, and winter was not exactly a time of healing.

Pitch sighs softly and looks down at Jack who is laying peacefully unaware of what he is about to do. It has been a strange thing, watching her sleep, seeing her so still when he's used to a flurry of movement and her lively personality. Here she looks so delicate and breakable, like a fresh bloomed flower in the spring amid patches of snow.

He brushes hair back from her forehead and his eyes trace the vivid bruise on her face, a deep bright blue with hints of purple against her pale skin. There is a flutter of something in his chest, something that's been very present lately, and Pitch sighs again.

Even before Jack had been hurt, he'd been looking at her. Not strangely, but with a fond smile and looking out for her when he could and even now she is making him smile, if only a little.

But there isn't time for this.

Someone  _hurt_  Jack and he needs to make sure they do  _not_  get away with it, because no one is allowed to hurt Jack, not even him, who whose touch blackens all he comes in contact with, the embodiment of fear who has killed so many. A dark gleam alights in Pitch's eyes.

Yes, he may not remember much from before his time as Pitch Black, but quite a lot of killing had been involved, and torture as well. His less used skills will finally be put to work on someone who deserves it, on someone he will feel no regret absolutely destroying.

* * *

The townspeople whisper in undertones of the cursed forest, a portion of which has somehow been almost completely frozen over.

Pitch glides through them unseen but for a couple of children who pale upon seeing him and make themselves scarce or cling to someone they know, a frightful look in their eyes. A young girl who can't be more than six or seven years old catches his attention, the fear in her an almost palpable thing and he flitters from a shadow in the eave of a carpenter shop to the shadow of the well she sits upon.

She "eep!"s when he greets her in smooth tones.

"Why are you so frightened, child?" he asks. "Surely it cannot be solely me who is responsible."

She shakes her head, curly dark brown locks flailing and wide brown eyes set in a brown face look at him with terror and a bit of respect.

"Is it the forest?"

A mute nod and she shivers a bit.

Pitch frowns. "Did you see something? Someone?"

She hesitates, then speaks in a small voice. "There's a spirit there. Mama says it's too dangerous to go in too far, but I was picking mushrooms and-" She clamps her mouth shut, her fear a cold thing tinged with spices.

"Did you see a girl with white hair?" Pitch tries not to let the urgency in his voice show.

The little girl nods, biting her lip. "It was so scary," she whispers, her knuckles white as she clenches them against her knees. "The trees were alive and she screamed and there was ice everywhere."

Pitch bites down on a growl. There's no use in scaring the girl if he wants to be forewarned about the spirit in the forest. Though from the sound of it...

"Was it a woman who made her scream?" he asks. "Or a man?"

"I... a man," the girl says, frowning. "He was very pretty though." She shivers. "He laughed when she screamed, like he liked it."

This time a growl does make it through and the girl looks twice as scared as before. "Don't worry," he says, and the irony that he is trying  _not_  to scare a child is not lost on him. "I'm not angry at you. The girl in the forest... she's my friend, she was hurt and I'm trying to find who did it."

"Oh." The little girl looks at him with wide eyes, but in surprise, not fright. "The Bogeyman has friends?"

"Only the one," Pitch grits out, then goes to leave.

"I hope she gets better soon," the girl calls after him.

 _So do I,_  Pitch thinks before disappearing through shadow.

"Lala!" The girl turns to see her mother coming towards her. "It's time to go home now."

"Okay." Lala takes her mother's hand as they walk towards their camp on the outskirts of town.

"Who were you talking to at the well?" her mother asks curiously, and not a little suspicious.

"The Bogeyman," Lala says matter of factly. "His friend was hurt in the forest."

Her mother's eyes widen and she says a prayer under her breath while clutching her daughter's hand tighter.

* * *

Pitch appears among several trees that are completely covered in ice. From what the little girl in the town had said, it sounds like he is dealing with some sort of faery. The trees coming alive had made him suspect a dryad for a moment, but dryads usually only act in defense of their own tree, and Jack wouldn't attack a tree for no reason, nor were dryads that sadistic. Plus dryads were female and not male. Add to the fact the girl said the man was pretty... Yup, probably a member of the Fae.

He reins in his temper and suppresses the urge to start tearing things apart with his shadows. He wants to draw this out, make it painful, and it won't do to tip his hand early.

"Well well, why does the Nightmare King come to my forest?"

Pitch bites down a snarl. "I heard whispers in the town of a cursed forest," he says in a voice like silk. "I was curious as to what could possibly be causing so much... fear."

A giggle, and then a small figure, a slight man about three feet tall and floating a foot off the ground, appears, hands clasped together. "How delightful! For the Nightmare King to visit me, a true pleasure!"

"It's interesting, how you've decorated," Pitch muses, glancing about pointedly at the frozen trees. "However did you manage?"

"Oh, that." The faery scowls. "Some winter sprite came through my forest the other day without even a how do you do. Taught him a lesson as to what happens when you don't mind your manners." His lips tilt up in a slight smirk. "Begged very nicely though, and his screams were very pretty, like a girl's. Didn't expect him to be quite so powerf- urk!"

A shadow spears through the faery, pinning him to a tree. "That "sprite" is my friend," Pitch growls, the forest darkening dramatically as shadows came to life and writhed around them. "And for what you did, for how you hurt her, I'm going to make you pay."

The faery's screams echoed throughout the forest as the Nightmare King slowly and painfully tore him apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger~
> 
> Hey, whattya know, I'm actually keeping to the update schedule! :D Next week will be Schismatic, then AWW, then back to Shadow Bride, and repeat. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and remember to review!


	11. Chapter 11

Pitch and the Sandman are not exactly enemies, or at least they aren't on such bad terms as Pitch is with, say, the Easter Rabbit, but they aren't the best of friends either. It isn't hard to be friendly with the Sandman, really, for he is a fuzzy and amiable sort in the way the dreams he weaves are.

There is such a thing as  _too_  good natured though, and often the smaller Dreamer's friendly attitude ends up irritating Pitch.

He is on the long way back to his lair when he crosses paths with the Sandman, and Pitch is a little grateful that Sanderson had not come across him earlier, when he still had faery blood (or what passed for it) on him. That would have been awkward to explain away, especially as much of his being unbothered by the Guardians rests on the illusion of him not being a threat.

"Sanderson," Pitch greets, unable to completely hide the wide smile that has been on his face since he slowly and painfully tore the faery's arms off before hitting him with them.

The smaller Dreamer shifts, symbols over his head flashing in a quick order that those unfamiliar with might not understand. "Just out and about," Pitch demurs, forcing the shadows to be still around him. The Sandman smiles, an eyebrow raised in polite disbelief, and Pitch sighs. "Really, Sanderson, you have better things to do than converse with me."

A silent laugh, and another flurry of symbols that end with a snowflake.

Pitch freezes. "I had no idea you were such a gossip," he says coolly, back stiff as he looms over the small Dreamer and his hold over nearby shadows loosens enough that they wriggle and squirm. Sanderson is not impressed, pressing again with the symbol of a snowflake and then, oddly enough, the moon.

It's fascinating, the way he forms the sand from seemingly nothing, and that it can be used for such a myriad of purposes. Pitch tears himself from his not exactly benevolent thoughts regarding the sand when the Sandman flashes a question mark over his head followed by an egg.

Pitch rolls his eyes. "The rabbit is overreacting," he says. "I've no designs to use Jack to destroy your precious friends or against children." He adds in a mutter, "For some reason she actually likes the squalling brats."

Both of Sanderson's eyebrows raise and there is a small dress over his head, then a suit, and then the snowflake again.

"How should I know?" Pitch asks haughtily. "It was your esteemed leader who gave her her name after blocking her memories." He leaves out the information that blocking her memories was probably for the best, as otherwise Jack may have attached herself to her still living family, possibly becoming a wraith as she grew increasingly obsessed with them as their lives progressed.

Let the Guardians stew over their precious Moon having done such a terrible thing to a spirit, let them feel guilty over ignoring a spirit they didn't think was  _important_. Sanderson certainly looks worried enough, though that may also be in part from the shadows moving around them, feeling the quiet simmering anger Pitch holds regarding the Moon and Jack.

He's had time to think regarding her past while he hunted down the damn faery, and had also taken out quite a bit of his anger on the idiot who thought tormenting innocent spirits was a jolly pastime.

There is a tinkling sound as Sanderson flashes several symbols in quick succession and Pitch only catches the tail end. "Excuse me?" he asks, not quite sure he's reading this correctly. With a silent huff Sanderson repeats the symbols. Pitch scowls. "Well you can tell North to shove his "polite invitation" up one of those furballs he employs. I may not be as powerful as I once was but I am not at his beck and call and sending you to track me down is beneath you as well."

A sleigh followed by a tooth and egg flashes over Sanderson's head before he shrugs apologetically.

"If so much as one of Toothiana's helpers disturbs me I'll use its feathers to make a pillow," Pitch sneers. "And I do enjoy a good omelet from time to time."

The Sandman waves his arms and several more symbols flash hurriedly over his head.

Pitch's eyes narrow considerably. "What do you  _mean_  the rabbit went to my home?"

* * *

The intermittent moments Jack is awake are hazy and half remembered, bundled in a swathe of darkness that is not unduly warm. When she finally does awake, it's because of an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Oi, Pitch! Get out here ya bleedin' toothpick!"

Jack wonders idly whether this is a nightmare. Pitch wouldn't do that though, especially not one about someone who annoys him as much as- Bunnymund, she recalls the Easter Rabbit introducing himself as. "What the hell," she mutters and is pleasantly surprised that her throat doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did the last time she tried to talk. However long she's been drifting between sleep and waking has at least given her time to heal.

 _Well, somewhat,_  she muses, wincing at the sting across her chest from the wound there. She looks around and fortunately her staff is within arm's reach. It's a little difficult to stand while keeping her balance and the blankets wrapped around her, but a couple of strategically iced places and the blankets form a sort of sack like robe. She has to lean on her staff more than she would like, but hey, she isn't about to look too weak in front of the overgrown rabbit. She has a reputation to maintain after all.

"North just wants ta talk ta ya is all!"

Jack frowns, both at how loud the voice is as well as what is being said. What on earth could the Guardians want to talk to Pitch about? A bit of a rhetorical question, she realizes since they are at each other's throats most of the time. Pretty rude of him to just barge right on in without so much as a knock though. A smirk crosses Jack's face and she conjures a snowball, noting how much effort is needed to do so, which she then proceeds to throw at Bunnymund as soon as he enters the room.

It hits him square in the face and the look of fright and surprise - he was probably expecting Pitch to strangle him or something - is absolutely hilarious and Jack laughs, despite how it hurts her throat.

"Wh-wh-" the Easter Rabbit splutters before glaring at the winter spirit.

"Don't you know you should knock before entering someone's home?" Jack giggles. "So rude, especially for a Guardian!"

Bunnymund growls, ears laid flat. "What are you doing here?" he demands.

"Well, sleeping before you woke me up," Jack retorts.

"Sleeping?  _Here?_ " Bunnymund asks incredulously.

"I think I just said that," Jack says. "Shouldn't your ginormous ears give you better hearing?"

Bunnymund scowls. "Where's Pitch?"

"Out and about? I don't know, I'm not his keeper," Jack replies, waving her staff around. "He's not kicking your ass for barging in uninvited though, so he's not here. So scoot, lemme get back to healing."

"Healing?" the rabbit stares at her with scrutiny before his eyes widen. "Did Pitch hurt you?"

"What?" Jack asks, baffled. "Uh,  _no_. Why would he? And don't say because he's evil," she adds before Bunnymund can say anything.

"Where are yer clothes?" Bunnymund demands, loping closer before Jack stops him by sticking her staff out in front of her as far as she can.

"None of your business," she snaps, the air temperature around them plummeting. "And if you're so interested in my well being then  _scram_."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing!" Jack insists, frost creeping on the stone floor below her.

"Listen kid, this is for your own good," Bunnymund says and then, faster than Jack can move in her injured state, he ducks under her staff and picks her up.

"Let go of me!" Jack yells, ignoring the way her throat burns and then she yelps as a hole forms underneath them and they're gone from Pitch's lair, into a tunnel that leads who knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Ehehehehe, **_everyone's_** in trouble now ;3 Btw, writing Sandy is hard, much harder than I expected. Oh dear Bunny, you try to be a gentleman, but this isn't the best situation for it x3;;
> 
> Hope everyone liked the chapter; I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo this year with an original story I've been working on but I'm still going to keep my update schedule going as usual, so expect the next chapter in 3 weeks.
> 
> Have a happy Halloween!


	12. Chapter 12

E. Aster Bunnymund has never been accused of being the most patient of people, especially when it comes to matters concerning the Nightmare King. So when he finds Jack Frost has been hanging around Pitch Black, he brings the matter to his fellow Guardians straight away (the fact that Frost is staking out the Groundhog's home when he and Bunny  _may_  have previously been a thing is completely unrelated).

As it is the end of January, going to the North Pole to inform Nicholas St. North is the most logical decision, not only because the Christmas rush will be at its low, but the former Cossack has been appointed their de facto leader on Earth. It has been a century or so since the four of them joined forces, a drop in the bucket compared to how long Bunnymund has lived, how much longer he  _will_  live if he doesn't meet his death in battle or sickness (an age ago he would have welcomed it, but now he has friends, has the children to look after).

There are many things Nicholas St. North, the Santa Claus, is, and kind is one of them. Jolly is another, as well as wise and optimistic. However, he is also sure of himself and not a little bit prideful, which makes convincing him to do something about Pitch so very difficult.

"Pitch Black? Bah, he is reduced to skulking in the deepest shadows. He is weak, Bunny, he cannot pose a danger to us." North's bright blue eyes twinkle beneath bushy eyebrows that have retained their original brown hue while the rest of his hair is streaked with the silver of age.

Bunnymund has to reign in his temper because North has only seen Pitch Black act against human children as the Bogeyman, not the Nightmare King who slaughtered millions in his path, a soulless husk who maintains a veneer of gentility that hides darkness deeper than human imagining. He is also not fond of the shortening North has given his name.

"That's just it," the Pooka insists. "It's been so long, Pitch has probably regained some strength by now, enough to try to sway a winter spirit over to 'is side!"

"A winter spirit?" That gains North's attention. "Which one?"

"The new one that's been droppin' snow every chance 'e gets; Jack Frost."

"Hmm." North rubs at his chin, brow furrowed in thought. "Strange, I do not remember Seraphina saying anything about creating a new spirit."

"Probably to reign in all that cold weather the past couple 'undred years or so," Bunnymund surmises. He shivers slightly in remembrance. The 1600s had been wrought with flooding following winter storms laden with a ridiculous amount of snow. "Even Mother Nature's got 'er rules."

"You say this Jack Frost has been plotting with Pitch?" North asks, his tone serious.

"Well, not exactly plottin'," Bunnymund admits. "It's more rumors, people seeing 'em together, in snowstorms and such."

"You came to me on basis of rumors?" North raises an eyebrow and Bunnymund has to fight back a wince.

"Well, no. See, I was goin' to go visit the Groundhog-"

" _Ahhhh._ "

"Shut it," Bunnymund snaps. "I was goin' ta visit him when I see Frost skulking around in a tree."

"It is almost Groundhog Day," North says. "Six more weeks of winter if he should see his shadow."

"I know, I know," Bunnymund says testily. "I went to confront Frost an' he said pretty much the same thing. Then I asked 'im about Pitch, tryin' to warn 'im but he brushed me off, saying that Pitch'd treated 'im better than most any other spirit and that he'd judge his friends based on their actions and not hearsay."

"Admirable," North says with a bit of respect in his voice.

"Maybe, but that's not the point!" Bunnymund huffs. "Pitch is tryin' to take advantage of Frost, use him to do something bad!"

"And the possibility that maybe after so long Pitch has found a friend, someone who can maybe change him?" North puts forward and Bunny's teeth grind at the way North sees good in everyone.

"Not possible," he almost growls. "Pitch has been a monster for thousands of years, he's not capable of changing because of just one person. If he was, it'd have 'appened a lot sooner."  _For Seraphina_ , goes unsaid.

North just looks at him, something close to pity in his eyes. "Go visit the Groundhog, my friend," he says.

Bunnymund does. He's still convinced that Pitch is up to something concerning Jack Frost, so he keeps his ears open. The French Revolution comes, twice, and he works harder than his best to bring those children hope, to keep their chins up in such dire times.

It is roughly twenty three years after Bunnymund brings his first concerns to North that the auroras flash calling the three of them to the North Pole.

"I wish it was under better circumstances that I called you here my friends," is what North says when they are all present.

"What's wrong?" Toothiana - the Tooth Fairy, as the children have taken to calling her - asks, her tone full of worry but her eyes set in steel.

"Is it Pitch?" Bunnymund asks, eyes narrowed.

"...I do not know," North admits after a moment. Everyone stares at him and a large question mark appears over the Sandman's fluffy head.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Toothiana looks as confused as Bunnymund feels.

"I mean that over the past week there have been strange things happening all over the world; lakes suddenly drying up, storms appearing from nowhere, whole ships disappearing without a trace." North's shoulders are tense, as though the weight of the world is on them. "I do not wish to believe it is Pitch, but he is old and has been on this planet for a long time. He may know what is going on here."

"He's not going to come that easily," Bunnymund warns.

"I know," North says with a nod. "Tooth, if you could tell your helpers to be on the look out for him-"

"I'll go out with them myself," she says. "I've barely left my home for the past fifty years, it'll be good to get out in the air again."

"Thank you. Sandy, if you could search children's dreams and where Tooth cannot? You know his presence better than any." The Sandman gives North a thumbs up and he smiles before turning to Bunnymund. "Bunny, if you could-"

"Tunnels," the Pooka says with a determined nod. "I'm on it."

"I will be in contact with Seraphina," North says. "Return with Pitch as soon as you can so we may explain the situation."

"And if necessary bash his face in," Bunnymund adds, then disappears down a tunnel before North can correct him.

It takes hours of searching before Bunnymund finds a series of caverns that have the unmistakable darkness the Bogeyman reeks of. "Oi, Pitch!" he yells. "Get out here, ya bleedin' toothpick!" There is silence and Bunnymund's ears twitch nervously. It is so dark here, and so very cold as well. "North just wants ta talk ta ya is all!" he adds, loping towards the nearest cave entrance, his accent thicker with his nerves.

A snowball hits him in the face. He jumps a bit, because that was unexpected and in this place of all places he is a little terrified. "Wh-wh-" There is laughing and Bunnymund scowls at the sight of Jack Frost.

"Don't you know you should knock before entering someone's home?" the winter spirit giggles. "So rude, especially for a Guardian!"

Bunnymund's teeth grind together and his ears go flat. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, sleeping before you woke me up," Frost replies with a snort.

Just  _what_  is the kid wearing? Bunnymund can't quite believe what he's hearing or seeing. "Sleeping?" he says incredulously. " _Here?"_

"I think I just said that," the winter spirit retorts. "Shouldn't your ginormous ears give you better hearing?"

 _Do not drop kick him to the Moon, do not drop kick him to the Moon_ , Bunnymund chants internally. "Where's Pitch?" he says aloud.

"Out and about? I don't know, I'm not his keeper," Frost says, frustratingly evasive and gesturing with his staff. "He's not kicking your ass for being here uninvited though, so he's not here." Bunnymund highly doubts an ass kicking is all the Nightmare King would have in store for him. "So scoot, lemme get back to healing."

...what?

"Healing?" Bunnymund echoes, eyes narrow as he suddenly sees the blue on Frost's face that isn't terribly noticeable but is not his normal skin tone. "Did Pitch hurt you?" he demands. Dammit, he'd warned the kid,  _warned_  him!

"What?" Frost looks and sounds genuinely surprised, but Pitch has always been good at disguising his less amiable qualities, and his tongue is like quicksilver, with excuses for everything. "Uh,  _no._  Why would he?" Bunnymund opens his mouth but Frost barrels on. "And don't say because he's evil."

That's just it though, Pitch  _is_ , he's done terrible things,  _will_  do terrible things- Bunnymund's next breath is caught in his throat as he realizes why what Frost's wearing looks familiar. They look just like Pitch's robes, a shadowy thing that absorbs all light and here the winter spirit is practically drowning in it, ice in strategic places to prevent it from falling off if he doesn't hold it closed himself.

"Where are yer clothes?" the Pooka almost snarls, his movement towards Frost cut short when the winter spirit brandishes his staff out, the tip of it glowing a light blue.

"None of your business," Frost snaps, the air around them thick with chill. "And if you're so interested in my well being then  _scram_."

Oh stars beyond, he does  _not_  like how this is looking. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing!" Frost insists, the stone around him icing over.

He has to do something, he can't just leave the kid here, can't let Pitch do -  _that_  to him again-! In an instant, Bunnymund makes up his mind. "Listen kid, this is for your own good," he promises, then darts forward, under Frost's staff, and and picks him up, hoisting the winter spirit up over one shoulder. A tunnel opens up beneath his feet even as Frost yells at him and they drop before landing on the ground and Bunnymund is hard pressed to run on three paws while the fourth keeps a hold of his cargo.

A small fist beats against his upper back with surprising force and then there is a sharp pain along his back. Bunnymund bites back a swear. Dammit, he'd forgotten about Frost's staff! He comes to an abrupt stop, his arm the only thing keeping Frost from tumbling to the ground at the sudden stop. He wrestles the staff away and drops the winter spirit on the ground none too gently.

"Give it back!" Frost shouts hoarsely. He flails for the staff but Bunnymund lifts it high above their heads. "You fucking - give it  _back!_ " He jumps up, hand reaching and failing to come within even a foot of his goal. The temperature around them has dropped to well below freezing and Bunnymund's teeth are beginning to chatter. He has to end this now.

He grabs Frost by the collar the next time he jumps and the fear in those ice blue eyes makes his stomach churn. "Sorry," Bunnymund says, drops the staff to the ground, and punches the winter spirit in the face. Frost goes limp and Bunnymund lowers him gently to the ground. "Shit," he mumbles. "Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Sorry for the late post! I didn't get the chapter done before work, and then I had to stay an hour and a half past when i was supposed to get off since my coworker bailed in the middle of his shift ugh =4=
> 
>  
> 
> _Bunny you are not making things easier on yourself you are digging a hole and filling it with concrete behind you bby pls ~~fun fact i debated having Bunny break Jack's staff for like two whole minutes before i decided against it~~_
> 
>  
> 
> That said, pls keep in mind before you cast Bunny as a villain (which so many ppl did last chapter, _yeesh_ ), that Pitch is basically his Itachi. In book canon the dude murdered his entire race, he's gonna have some issues with him no matter how long a time passes. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and don't forget to review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some nudity in this chapter and mentions/discussion of rape and non-consensual body modification. Just an FYI

Bunnymund rubs a paw at the back of his head. This is not good at all. He should have thought this through better, should have tried to just talk the kid down, not resorted to punching first and asking questions later. He had no idea where Pitch was though, if he'd be back before one of the others found him, and it wasn't like Frost was being at all cooperative.

He bends down to pick up Frost's staff, somewhat relieved to find that dropping it hadn't done it any harm. The kid seemed pretty attached to it and it wouldn't do to get even further in Frost's bad graces after punching him out. If Pitch  **is**  somehow behind whatever was happening with the waters, Frost might be useful leverage against him.

The Pooka crouches, wincing a little at the light blue bruise that's already forming on the winter spirit's face. Stars and suns, he wasn't looking forward to the kid waking up, even if he probably did deserve whatever yelling would probably ensue.

The robes that are swaddled around the winter spirit make picking him up a little difficult and after a moment of trying to tie off fabric that seems to evade and swirl around paws that are not really made for this sort of thing, Bunnymund decides that stripping the robes down to Frost's waist and tying it off there will minimize the likelihood of any more tangles or the fabric flying in his face. Not to mention he wouldn't put it past Pitch to have given Frost clothes that would try to strangle anyone the Nightmare King wished.

Bunnymund lays the staff down and pushes back the guilt he's feeling. While they should be relatively safe in his tunnels, Pitch coming back and finding his... whatever Frost is to him, gone is more than enough reason for him to take measures to make his journey through his tunnels as smooth as possible. He curls his paws around the collar of the robes and maneuvers Frost's arm through the opening, then pulls the fabric down-

He stops, brain not quite computing what he's seeing, which is a smallish lump on the winter spirit's chest and the beginning of a wound that's only beginning to heal. He pulls the fabric over further and sure enough, the wound continues down to just over the top of Frost's other breast. "What the..." Bunnymund says aloud incredulously before pushing the fabric back up to preserve the winter spirit's modesty.

This made absolutely  **no**  sense. Jack Frost was supposed to be male, a mischievous asshole who delighted in tricks and snowstorms. Not to say that girls couldn't be or do those things, but "Jack" was altogether a very male name. Why would Frost pretend to be a boy? Scratch that, why would Seraphina, Mother Nature Herself, go along with this, because there was no way that this had happened without her knowing.

Unless... Pitch was capable of using the shadows to change things for him. Could he have done this? Frost doesn't look like he's been created or touched by shadows, quite the opposite actually, with white hair and pale skin and looking vaguely corpse-like lying so still like this.

Bunnymund doesn't like this at all. Not wanting to waste any more time, he gathers more power than he normally would and taps on the ground with his foot. A tunnel opens up, branching from the one they're currently in, and he picks up the staff, then Frost, and jumps down it.

He comes up in the middle of North's workshop, a little out of breath from creating that much of a shortcut. The hubbub of the elves and yetis working, even as Christmas is months away, stops at the sight of the Easter Rabbit in the middle of the shop holding a limp figure clothed in black under his arm. Paying no mind to everyone staring at him, Bunnymund starts towards North's office.

Either the silence aroused suspicion or someone told North of Bunnymund's arrival, because the door to his office opens and the man himself comes out, expression carefully blank. "Bunny," he says, both curious and yet accusatory.

"I know this looks bad," Bunnymund admits as North escorts him into the office and closes the door behind them. "But he - Frost wasn't gonna come willingly."

"Jack Frost?" North's eyebrows are just about level with his hairline. "Why did you kidnap Jack Frost?"

"It wasn't-!" Bunnymund huffs and sets the staff against the wall and then the winter spirit in a chair. He carefully makes sure that Frost isn't about to fall off the chair before turning to North. "I found Pitch's lair and the kid was there. We had words."

"Words that ended with a fight?" North gestures towards the winter spirit's face. "Sokolovsky, Bunny, what did you  **do**?"

"If there'd been some other way I woulda taken it, believe me I woulda!" Bunnymund insists. "But - North, I'm pretty sure Pitch has been raping the kid."

There is silence a moment before North says in a voice like the calm before a storm, "What do you mean Bunny."

"I mean that the kid said he - she -  **they**  were healin' and fer me ta scram before Pitch came back and there's no clothes under those robes and a nasty wound and stars above, North, the kid's got breasts and I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure they weren't there before!" Bunnymund knows he must look a sight, waving his arms around, but when it comes to Pitch he has a sore spot a galaxy wide and that he's been doing something like this under everyone's collective nose-!

"This is a very serious accusation Bunny," North says quietly, brow furrowed. "And just how did you discover this?"

"So I might've punched the kid in the face to get 'em to come with me - look, I panicked okay!" Bunnymund cuts North off before he can even say anything. "It wasn't the best idea I've ever had and I'm sure to catch it later. I dunno what those robes are made of but they were makin' it hard to carry the kid and so I thought maybe takin' some of 'em off would help and..." He trails off with a guilty and embarrassed expression.

North pinches the bridge of his nose. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that now. Kenitroi!" A yeti pokes its head in cautiously. "Please take Jack Frost here to one of the guest rooms and make sure no one disturbs." He turns back to Bunny. "We will discuss this later Bunny. For now we have more important things to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about the late post everyone! Work interfered -.- Hope everyone liked the chapter, and remember that con-crit is very welcome!!


	14. Announcement

Hello everyone! Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you all. I'm afraid I come with sort of bad news.

During the past couple of weeks I've been having trouble sleeping, mood swings, and during the last week or so have been feeling generally tired, nauseous, and dead inside. This all kind of culminated tonight (Christmas) after a long day of schmoozing with relatives and I realized the cause is probably because I haven't been taking my antidepressants. I found out earlier this year that some antidepressants can suppress/decrease libido and I had a bit of an existential crisis because I'd been on antidepressants since I was 13 and was terrified to think that maybe I wasn't actually asexual, that it was the meds' fault. Then I was finding a new job and quitting my old one and feeling relatively fine so getting back on my meds slipped my mind.

Honestly I'm surprised I lasted this long without them.

Long story short, updating my fics will be put on hold for a few weeks while I get back on my meds and get my life back into shape. During the past couple weeks I've struggled to get even a couple hundred words down and frankly it would be an insult to all of you if I tried to force myself, because it would not be my best writing, or where the story should be going, and we all deserve better than that.

My apologies to those of you who thought this would be an update (especially to those of you who I told I was going to update today, something which i was determined to do until i realized that i needed to chill the fuck out and take care of my health). I plan to resume updating sometime mid/late January on the same three-week rotation schedule I have been using recently. All three stories will be updated the same day, then Schismatic the following week, A Wonderful World (of Magic) a week later, and then Shadow Bride the next week, continuing where the cycle was broken when I wasn't able to update Schismatic last week.

Sorry for the delay, and I hope your holidays and 2016 are good for/to you :)


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. Thanks so much for all of your well wishes, even if I didn't reply to them I got them and they mean a lot to me, they got me through some tough times. It's been an eventful year, filled with extra hours to save up for an apartment and then moving into said apartment, as well as getting promoted at work and moving to working night shifts and I just got hired for a second job which i will eventually transition to fully so I don't have to work until 4-6 am all the time lol 
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://www.stargatenerd.tumblr.com) set up specifically for my fanfic now (separate from my personal blog) where you guys can ask questions about fic or my original stories or get updates on my writing and shit :) I would appreciate if y'all would stop by since part of the reason I've had such trouble writing is because I isolated myself when I work best bouncing ideas off of people and discussing them with people who have a vested interest in what I'm writing.

Toothiana is _not_ a shut-in, no matter what Nicholas or anyone else may insinuate, jokingly or not, thank you very much.

No one barring the Sandman knows how much _work_ is involved in her duty, collecting teeth and memories night after night after night after night after _night_. Nicholas and Aster (who prefers Bunnymund) have a whole entire year to prepare for their respective holidays while she has a very limited time each night to collect the teeth of children before dawn.

Any jokes about having a small army of herself aside, her helpers are absolutely necessary in getting her work done, and that they are so useful makes it much easier for her to direct them from her home. Nicholas may have joked once about her being "flighty", but she would like to see him maintain a mental connection with several million other beings _and_ keep a conversation going at the same time. It is not easy.

It helps that each one is essentially a part of herself, but in the century or so since she has taken up the role of the Tooth Fairy, they have developed their own senses of identity and self. Toothiana is proud, though that does make the connection somewhat deafening at times.

Even though she is not a full Sister of Flight, she is still part Fae, and as such is more sensitive to the magic of the world than others. So when Nicholas calls a meeting she knows that it isn't to catch up or gossip, but that something is wrong. It isn't Pitch though, she knows that much when Aster raises the question - problems caused by him have a much darker feel to it, cloaked in shadow and forever recoiling from the sun.

No, what she feels, and what her helpers feel, is more empty, almost hungry.

When Nicholas suggests asking for the Bogeyman's advice regarding the lakes' disappearance and the sudden storms Toothiana is wary but has to admit it is a good idea, considering how old Pitch is. Plus it is about time she got out a little - Punjam Hy Loo is a beautiful place but it has been decades, over half a century since she has gone out in the world herself.

She leaves a couple of her helpers at the North Pole to coordinate with Nicholas while she informs the rest out doing their duty to keep their eyes out for the Nightmare King, but not to engage him if they do encounter him - her helpers are good at collecting teeth but not so much at talking to people who are not her. No, they are to inform her of their location and she will come straight away. Meanwhile, Toothiana goes on the Guardians' behalf to look for the one other person besides Pitch who may be able to offer information regarding what is happening to the lakes and with the oceans.

It is not an easy thing, to find Mother Nature. Yes, she is everywhere around them, but in that case it is often like missing the forest for the trees. However in the same way that Toothiana is able to sense that their current problem is not being caused by Pitch, she can feel the presence of Mother Nature herself - majesty and sorrow and vast power tempered by kindness and compassion.

Mother Nature's Empire, a densely wooded place where the trees and all else are under the direct command of Nature herself, has changed location from the last time Toothiana visited her in the central rainforests of Africa. It would take days, at least, for anyone else to find it, but Toothiana's consciousness is stretched across the world in hundreds of directions on a day to day basis. Using the link between her and her helpers, she's able to narrow down her search to the northwest of the American continent.

Two and a half hours of so of flying later she comes across a thick forest that almost glows with magic. It surrounds her as she touches down between the trees just beyond a small cabin. The entire place feels _alive_ in a way that not many places do anymore with "modern" humans colonizing places that had previously been undisturbed.

The cabin door opens and a tall pale woman with long black hair and high cheekbones emerges. "Toothiana," she acknowledges her presence.

"Seraphina," the Tooth Fairy replies, not standing on ceremony but still bowing her head.

"You rarely get out with your duties as a Guardian. This must be important."

"Yes, it is."

"Don't dally then. Come in." Seraphina opens the door wide to allow Toothiana to flit through. "I'm surprised Nicholas did not come. Or Sanderson," Seraphina admits.

"Nicholas is busy, and Sandy and Aster are off looking for Pitch," Toothiana says, bracing herself for the Nature Queen's reaction.

Which is just the raising of one impeccable eyebrow. "Oh?" is Seraphina's cool reply. "And what has Pitch Black done now?"

Emboldened by the lack of angry dramatics in her response (in that, she is most definitely her father's child), Toothiana continues. "Nothing at the moment. It is only information we're seeking. It's why I'm here, while the others look for Pitch."

Seraphina's brow furrows. "Information? On what?"

"The water has been acting… strangely. Lakes drying up, ships gone missing, unexpected storms causing devastation. Perhaps one of your spirits?"

"No, none of mine would dare," Seraphina denies with a shake of her head that sends a dark wave of her hair cascading across her face before she tucks it back. "Although…" She looks at Toothiana, slight worry in her eyes. "There is a chance that Pitch may be involved."

"What?" Toothiana is surprised that Seraphina would say such a thing when she strives to be very much neutral where her father is concerned.

"One of my winter spirits, a Jack Frost, has struck up a friendship with him. I have let it be since I thought it would be good, for both of them. It seemed to be good for them both," she admits. "Jack is very friendly, but she can not interact with humans and it saddens her."

"She?" Tooth wonders at the incongruity of the name.

Seraphina shrugs. "Your Moon named her."

"But she is one of your's?"

"Yes. She has been… a good influence, I think, for him. Jack is a winter spirit so I hesitate to assign blame to her but my father could have had an impact on her abilities. I doubt it, but the possibility is there."

"Thank you," Toothiana says, clasping her hands around Seraphina's. "I know the subject of him is… difficult."

"I have had centuries to get used to this," Seraphina replies. "He has not been my father in a long time."

"That doesn't stop you from caring," Toothiana says kindly. "Missing your parents is natural, no matter what has become of them."

Seraphina lets a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "You always know what to say." She raises delicate feathery hands up and presses a kiss to them. "I'll look into this. Make sure Bunnymund doesn't get too riled up over this?"

"I'll try to minimize the damage," Toothiana promises with a giggle.

"Thank you," Seraphina says with a smile that tastes of starlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I femslashed ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Seriously tho, I ship Seraphina/Tooth like, a lot. Also her name is Seraphina bc that's the name I adopted as my headcanon for her before we found out it was Emily Jane like seriously your dad's name is _Kozmotis_ why would you be named Emily Jane??? Anyway, we're not quite getting back to Jack and the others yet, but this was necessary. Gayer than I originally planned ~~i'm sure my parents could say the same lol~~ , but necessary :)


End file.
